


Cepheus

by Ilovehighhats



Series: Constellations [5]
Category: Batman (Movies - Nolan), Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Chess, Couch Sex, Dubious Consent, F/M, Strip Chess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-04
Updated: 2017-12-04
Packaged: 2019-02-10 08:11:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12907812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ilovehighhats/pseuds/Ilovehighhats
Summary: Cepheus. A king with a foolish wife, taking the burden of responsibility for her careless words on himself, and paying the highest price for it...In other words, just a regular game of chess.





	Cepheus

**Author's Note:**

> Whoops I wrote another smut chapter.  
> The sketch you'll find somewhere in the middle is a generous gift from the fabulous @ThreeDots. Thank you so, so much for the hundredth time!
> 
> Also, a disclaimer - Helena's portrayal in the pic is the version of her that ThreeDots imagined. So, if she looks different to you, good! I was very careful not to describe her appearance at all, so that she can look any way you want her to look.

Helena was bored. If she had another book presented to her to read she would seriously consider eating the tome instead. Simple comfort of watching a movie or playing a videogame bloated in her memory into an ultimate joy; leaving her with an all-encompassing desire to do something, anything, that would entertain her. 

Save for reading. 

Alas, there weren't any options involving any kind of electronics, she checked that with Bane a long time ago. From her daily observations she was sure the only place with any type of technology other than the radio was the Chapel. A definite no-go zone. 

That left only one option. 

As it was with many things, Bane anticipated her mood by some magic means, and just before she gathered her thoughts to ask he cheerfully suggested:

“Let's play chess.”

She smirked at the mercenary remembering the first time he offered that, the night before they slept together for the first time. She almost won back then.

For a minute Helena pretended to mull over the idea, using that time to roam her eyes over Bane's powerful form.

He just came back from a short excursion with his men, dusty and smelling faintly of gunpowder. Maybe they went for target practice. He seemed relaxed and she grinned, watching him take off his flak jacket, the action forming another idea in her mind.

Perhaps this too would be something he'd pick up on wordlessly. There was a big chance he already had, seeing how eager he was to get her to his chambers.

“Sure, but I have a rules modification to propose,” she said eventually, when the time she spent appreciating the man before her grew too long and he sent her an amused look, eyebrow cocked in obvious reprimand. 

“Indeed?” He looked at her with keen eyes, halting movement of unbuckling wide brace supporting his midsection.

“Let's make it strip chess.” She challenged in turn.

Bane seemed to freeze for three seconds, then his cheeks moved in a way that left no doubt over mimics under the mask. He grinned at her, finishing unhurriedly his task with the leather contraption.

“One piece of clothing for each piece on board?”

Helena tsked, shaking her head. “That would be a short round. One piece of clothing for every figure, nothing for pawns.”

“A favour for every two pawns sacrificed.“

“What kind of favour?” She narrowed her eyes.

Bane wiggled his eyebrows.

“No one would believe me if I told them you did that,” she chuckled. “Okay, a favour but for every four pawns.”

“Three.”

“Deal!”

She grinned at him, then bit her lip. 

“Shall we?”

“After you, madame.”

She snorted and pranced to the chessboard, sitting behind the black pieces. 

“Are you sure you want me to start?”

“You let me go first last time, it's only fair.”

“As you wish.”

But instead of moving the pieces, he leaned back and put Helena under a careful observation.

“Two shirts?”

“It's chilly today.”

“Hm. Leggings under the jeans too then, I presume?”

“Long socks actually.” For once the lack of appropriate garments seemed to play to her advantage. 

“Very well. That's seven articles of clothing. Everything but the king has to go then,” he noted, taking stock of his opponent.

“You're very sure of yourself.”

“You should have kept your shoes on,” he mocked.

Five minutes in, Bane was leaning onto the table, playing absentmindedly with Helena's rook. He raised his eyes from the board to admire his handiwork. Helena was pouting, stripped completely from the waist up, left with only her panties and socks. He used his ‘favour' to make her start disrobing from the top instead of bottom pieces of her clothing. Meanwhile, Bane still had on everything he started with.

“I don't get it. I nearly won before and now I can barely take your pawns.”

“I may have been distracted the last time we played,” he admitted lightly.

“Yeah, right.”

She folded her hands over her breasts, shielding them briefly from Bane’s watchful eyes, but then her left hand rose up to her mouth. She plucked her bottom lip, thinking on her next move.

“If that's any consolation you're putting up a good fight.”

She looked at him sharply, huffed with annoyance and furrowed her brows even more, dropping her gaze back to the game. Finally she decided on moving the last rook she had, to execute a castling.

“Very good,” Bane praised. Immediately he proceeded taking her queen away with a bishop he had in position for three rounds.

“But...!” Helena left her mouth hang open, confusion clear on her face. If she'd leave the rook where it was, her queen might have been safe… “That's not fair!” She huffed and leant back in her chair.

“Everything done according to the rules is fair,” he chided. “Also, I think you owe me another piece of your clothing.”

“Fine,” she spat. Spitefully she stood up and with one swift motion slid her underwear down to her knees. “Happy now?” She asked, plopping down on the cold chair with a slight wince.

“Did I ever mention I love this game?” 

He continued to clean the board of her pawns, toying with her like a predator circling its prey. In the end he delivered the checkmate only after no other black pieces but the king were left in the game, swooping up her last Knight. 

Helena noted with a degree of respect that it did require some forethought not to accidentally finish the game prematurely, seeing how many pieces Bane still had in play. 

“Congratulations,” she huffed unhappily. 

Bane drummed his fingers on the table, his eyes fixed on the board. 

“Stay,” he said mildly when she moved to slide off the chair. 

She tilted her head in question. 

Before speaking again he methodically gathered all pieces back on the board in their respective places. Then, he leaned back in his seat, mimicking Helena's pose with hands folded over his chest.

“Now that I won, I expect some recompense for my trouble.”

“Isn't the satisfaction of victory enough for you?”

“I had in mind satisfaction of a different kind.” His head turned slightly to his right. “Come here.” He gestured to a spot beside him. 

Helena couldn't suppress a sharp gasp. Not that she was against sex with Bane in general, but in this particular moment she really wasn't in the mood. Maybe because she was a sore loser and he won way too easily to her liking.

“No.”

“I see, you'd like to maintain the illusion of a battle to the end.” His head bowed in a slow, sagely nod. “Very well.”

He got up and reached to her head with his right hand, grabbing her bun and making her stand up beside him.

“To the victor go the spoils,“ he murmured. 

His other hand took off her glasses, then caressed her cheek, fingertips testing softness of her skin, dipping lower to her lips, then all the way to her neck. At her collarbone he changed the direction, circling her shoulder with an abnormally heated palm. 

“Will you be graceful in defeat?” He asked.

She shivered, trying to convince herself it was from the winter chill seeping into the room. Bane patiently waited for her response, warming her with the heat radiating off his body. 

They both knew how the game would end, even before she proposed they play her way. 

Looking into his eyes she once more considered her options. If she'd stay defiant he could do two things. Crush her resistance or punish her for insubordination. If she'd yield however…

She gave her answer in a simple nod, a short one since Bane still held her head up. He lowered his face towards her, moving her backwards with a subtle shift of his broad frame. 

Back of the sofa dug into her hips, a reminder of his intentions. Her heart picked up tempo, anticipation mixing with budding arousal. 

Deftly, he turned her around, then pushed steadily with a powerful palm splayed between her shoulder blades. Heat blossomed on her cheeks, partly from gravity pulling her blood down to her head, partly because she already felt the rush of excitement. She braced on soft cushions of the seat and on the sturdier armrest, waiting for the obvious next move.

There wasn't any sound behind her, nothing she would expect at least. No growl of velcro, no rasp of a zipper, no whisper of fabric sliding off of skin. 

“Let down your hair,” Bane said quietly. 

She moved her head to the side and reached to take the pins out, trying to catch a glimpse of Bane in her peripheral. Despite that she jumped with surprise when he slid a finger down her spine. The movement was slow, as if he was counting the vertebrae under the smooth skin. Another shiver shook her muscles, chasing the path of his hand. 

“Far better it is to dare mighty things, to win glorious triumphs, even though checkered by failure…”*

“Do you speak from experience?“

“Yes. Although my failures tended to be painful rather than pleasurable.”

Question over how could he be sure of the pleasantness of the ordeal to her stuck in Helena's throat, stilled by his fingers splaying over her buttocks. Rustle of clothes and muffled thudding on the floor told her that he kneeled behind her.

She felt exposed and helpless, and realized that this had to be his exact intention, for her to feel completely at his mercy. Bane could have just as easily fingered her while standing up, but he chose to use her like this, to show her the extent of his power. 

Relaxing over the backrest she prepared herself for the sensation of his hands prodding her body. 

Instead she let out a surprised huff of air, as he dragged cold muzzle of his mask across her upper thighs. His palms splayed just above her knees, helping her spread her legs further, to the perfect angle he wanted to achieve. 

All those times he promised he'd taste her… Was this the day he'd finally take his mask off?

The scraping of metal on her heated skin brought her back to present moment, paired with hot palms scaling up the inside of her thighs. He didn't even touch her pussy yet, and already she felt the wetness gathering with another sweet pang of excitement. 

The minutia of the scene burned into her mind. The muscles of her back relaxed further, and she fell more comfortably against the cushions, while at the same time she tensed her legs in preparation of Bane's next move. His breath caressed her skin, ghosting over short hair at the back of her thighs with barely any force at all. Rough skin of his palms moved slowly up and up, towards her hips, making her fist her own hands into thick fabric of the sofa. 

She knew intimately the texture under her cheek, knew it so well it felt like a piece of home. This felt like a ritual, this careful circling, testing the give, taking of any piece of her sanity Helena carelessly left exposed.

When Bane's hands reached top of her thighs, when he decided to take his mask off her skin, Helena whimpered. 

“Are you in pain?”

There was no mockery in his voice, oddly enough. 

She tried to muffle her frustrated whine, but to no avail. They were too close, and anyway Bane was too avid observer, his eyes always keen for any scrap of information he could gather. He had her filed away in neat little pieces, all ordered according to importance. 

He knew how to press on her skin to steady her composure, to ground her with a simple reminder of her position. 

He knew how she liked to be touched, and withheld his fingers from her core, teasing with his thumbs sneaking closer and closer, but never quite reaching the best spots.

He knew what her sudden groan meant, what she said without uttering a word with her feet stretching up so she was on her toes, ready for him and welcoming in her impatience. 

“I asked you a question. I expect an answer.”

He knew how to make her delirious with repressed desire. She was contradictory, but both of them knew that the conclusion of the conversation was inevitable. Two galaxies circling each other before they merged into a brilliant spiral of stars and dust and colourful gases. 

But she would fight him every step to preserve her own identity, her unique perspective. Even if she wanted the same thing he was taking from her in that very moment.

“Yes I am.” Helena managed to groan out through teeth clenched on the fabric of a cushion.

“Liar.”

He chose that moment to slowly, oh so slowly, press his index finger into her weeping cunt. There was no resistance, only slick and smooth muscles giving way and then contracting around the digit, trying to keep him in, to get the most out of the fleeting contact. He slid out smoothly and circled her opening again. 

“Did this hurt?”

Helena whimpered and fidgeted on her feet again, pressing out her hips to try and get him back in. 

Bane's other palm curled reassuringly over her hip, deceptively gentle touch keeping her rocking at bay. 

“Does it hurt?” He asked again. But this time, his voice didn't have the razor edge of steely command from before. Now he was rasping the words, holding himself back from taking what he so obviously wanted. His restraint worked for Helena like a gust of air stoking the blaze in her cunt to a roaring inferno.

“It does. It hurts so much.”

“But I hardly did anything to you,” he mocked. 

“You don't understand. It's the emptiness that hurts. I'm aching for you. Fill me up.”

At her words Bane curled his fingers, digging hard into her soft flesh. The hand at her hip fisted around the bone; the other slid a fraction lower and grabbed supple plane of her thigh.

The mask was back on Helena's skin, cold grate nuzzling her overheated nether lips. Bane growled, the sound morphing into a whine. His breaths were clearly audible, deeper than normal, as if he was gulping greedy mouthfuls of air desperate to catch even the smallest hint of the fragrance that wasn't his medication. 

It was too much. Helena couldn't suppress another shiver, her legs trembling now with excitement. The room was no longer cold to her, the air seemed too thin. With weakened arms she tried to straighten, but a sound behind her froze her mid-way. 

Bane growled, a vibrating animalistic threat, uncanny and primal. 

His hands moved, scratching the soft skin under his fingernails, forcing Helena back into position.

“Stay.”

That one word, a repetition of what was said before, so different under the circumstances. This time, it was not an order. 

He didn't straighten, didn't move up. His only movement was slow leaning back, just far enough to see what he was about to do, but so close his body still pressed to Helena's calf. Pressure at her hip eased when he slid his palm down towards the knee. His right hand returned to her cunt.

“No, please, not just fingers…” She practically wept. 

Bane just shooshed her, intent on the part of her he was about to touch. Navigating carefully, he let his fingertips glide over slick skin, once more tracing circles over the opening of Helena's cunt. 

With some amusement he discovered that his hand was shaking.

But then he pressed in, surely sliding two fingers into the wet heat, stirring the hunger in himself to new heights. He listened to Helena's helpless moan, and fought not to close his eyes. Not just yet. Now he watched as his fingers disappeared rhythmically into blushed and puffed up folds, his own skin glistened with the woman's juices.

His woman's.

He kept her from moving with him, bracing with the hand hooked over her knee, crowding her with his body so close. But still she undulated her hips, trying to get as much pleasure as she could, even as she pleaded for more still.

When he slid his thumb down to her clit, the effect was instantaneous. Helena whined pitifully, tensed reflexively around his fingers. 

Bane groaned and pressed his forehead to her skin, watching greedily the way his palm caressed her cunt. 

“Please, please, just let me feel more of you, please Bane, please…” She kept on babbling, obediently keeping her upper torso down on the sofa. 

Even though now he was too weak with need to stop her from straightening up and turning to him. He would let her do anything in that moment. Press him down to the floor. Straddle his hips. Take his mask off…

The last thought was too much. 

She gasped when he took his hands away. Before her arms gathered the strength needed to get up, he was standing behind her, tugging sharply at his belt. Quick and efficient movements, ingrained in muscle memory, were completed without any active thinking on his part. Instead, he relished the sight before him, smooth line of Helena's back, glimpse of her neck under tousled hair, one eye on him as she bit her lips. She waited for him, tensed in anticipation, silently observing as he opened his slacks without any gentleness, the intensity of his purposeful movements bordering on anger. 

When his eyes turned down and shoulders rounded with movement, it was clear enough sign that he was ready. Not a second too late he was at her entrance, warm and velvety skin teasing Helena's cunt.

She turned her head back to the cushions, pressing her forehead to the rough fabric and panting harshly.

Bane fucked into her with his eyes closed, his head thrown back, brows furrowed. Steady moan he let out sounded like a growl of static through the mask. He grinned and used his hold on Helena's hips to yank her closer with each thrust, his own body moving in powerful short bursts. 

He fought to keep the pace steady, brisk but not rushed. Gulping the saliva down he straightened his neck to properly look at Helena, to gauge her reactions by more than just her moans.

A mistake.

She strained to meet his thrusts, toes fighting for purchase on smooth wooden floor. Her arms were braced on the cushions, keeping her chest from chafing with the to and fro movements. 

Against all obstacles, she still tried to observe him.

Bane wondered how he looked to her. A conqueror enjoying his captive. His spoils of war. Taking her fully clothed, his boots grinding in the floor an inch away from the fragile vulnerability of her naked feet. 

But she wasn't just another helpless prisoner. She was his scribe. His companion. She fought him for every privilege, she discussed his every statement. And now even though she was technically letting him use her… He knew it was mutual. He was giving her what she needed, taking the control, taking the burden of responsibility on himself. 

The delicious friction was too much for him to let his thoughts flow in organised sentences. Instead, words jumbled in incoherent bursts, echoed by Helena's whimpered pleas.

“Yes! Right there! More, more, more…”

He punctuated each and every word with a strong snap of his hips, his cock sliding harshly in and out with maddening consistency. 

Not too fast, he reminded himself.

Helena couldn't stop the involuntary contractions of her muscles, her cunt trying to keep Bane's cock in for as long as she could. She was dizzy, the forced position rushing too much blood to her head, even though it felt like her whole backside was on fire. 

She needed just a little push to get over the edge.

Her eyes snapped open with a realization, a memory resurfacing in an instant. Another afternoon, another time Bane fucked her on that sofa. There had been an urgency much like now and with it an edge of frustration. 

“Bane,” she choked out, barely able to speak coherently over blood thumping in waves in her ears. “Bane, spank me.”

She thought he didn't hear, and another forceful thrust made her shut her eyes closed with the movement. 

But then, he transferred one hand to knead her ass, quickening his pace. His palm left her skin only to come back with a loud snap. 

Helena didn't register Bane's groan responding to her sudden clenching, focused on the way he eventually granted her the wish she vocalized a while back. She felt full of him, inside and out. Surrounded with Bane's scent, his gasping breaths, feeling the desperate way his body sought hers. 

Then he spanked her again, his hand landing low, almost at her thigh. And again, in the same place where he reached the first time, the reddened skin doubly sensitive. 

She didn't even try to touch her clit, the constant grinding at the apex of her thighs more than enough to stimulate her, the hard pace with which Bane fucked her arousing to no end. 

He gripped her with a bruising force and she knew it was the end for him. The last few pushes were not restricted, violently rocking Helena forward, nearly lifting her up with brutal force Bane used. 

She came clenching over him when his rumbling groan reverberated through her back, the accompanying shiver rising hair at her nape. She felt everything. The hot wetness spilling inside her cunt. The way his heaving chest pressed close, too close to her spine. His arms circling her, keeping brunt of his weight off her smaller body. The mask pressing to her neck, almost reverently, like a kiss. 

She was his, there was no escaping that.

But she was defiant. With the last of her strength, fighting the drowsiness that followed her orgasm, she puffed her lips in a pout and turned her head to shoot a glimpse of a smirk Bane's way.

He leaned back a bit to get a better look.

“I won,“ she proclaimed, and for once he didn't argue.

**Author's Note:**

> *Theodore Roosevelt quote.


End file.
